VERSE TRANSLATIONS.

THE LAMENT FOR DAPHNIS. FROM THE FIRST IDYLL OF THEOCRITUS. Literary World, August 1847.

BEGIN the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, again! Thyrsis am I from Etna, and this is Thyrsis' strain. Where were ye, nymphs, where were ye when Daphnis pined away?

In Peneus' lovely vallies, or in Pindus' vales that day? For sure by great Anapus' wave ye were not then, I deem, Nor Etna's lofty summit, nor Acis' holy stream.

Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! For him the jackals loudly howled; him did the wolves deplore; His death the very lion from the glade lamented o'er. Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! And many cows were round his feet, and many

bulls

were near, And many calves and heifers too, bewailed their master dear. Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! First Hermes from the mountain came, and said „O Daph

nis mine!

With whom art thou so much in love? For whom, my friend, dost pine?"

Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! And cowherds came, and shepherds came, and goatherds crowded fast;

They all inquired what ill was thine; Priapus came the last, And said "Poor Daphnis, why art thou thus wasting? while the maid,

O'er many a rugged mountain top, o'er many a grassy slade, Has fled to seek another man, * and left thee desolate.

* Our translation here is founded on an emendation of C. Wordsworth, ἃ δέ έ κώρα for the old reading & δέ τε χώρα confrmed by the parallel passage in Virgil.

"Galle quid insanis? ait, tua cura Lycoris

Perque nives alium perque horrida castra secuta est."

Ah, truly thou art sick of love, and very hard thy fate!" But nothing said the swain to them; his bitter love for aye He brooded o'er and cherished it, unto his dying day.

Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! And Venus sweetly laughing came to triumph o'er her foe. (A pleasant smile was on her lips; a heavy heart below). "And did'st thou, Daphnis, boast o'er love to gain the victory?

And hath not love, a grievous love, been victor over thee?" Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! "O Venus, hard and cruel one!" made answer Daphnis then, "O Venus very blamable! O Venus curst of men! And dost thou think already, that my sun for aye hath set? Daphnis shall e'en in Hades feel the pangs of Eros yet." Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! "Steal off to Ida, where they say the cowherd once to theeGo to Anchises! there are oaks; here only reeds to see; And pleasant is the swarming hum of many a honey bee.” Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! "Adonis too is in his prime, for well he tends his ewes, And shoots the trembling antelopes, and savage beasts pursues."

Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! "Yet once again approaching him, say thus to Diomed, "The cowherd Daphnis yields to me; come thou and fight instead!""

Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! "Wolves, jackals, cavern-loving bears, ye mountaindwelling brood,

Farewell! Herd Daphnis never more shall meet you in the wood,

Nor in the thicket nor the groves. O Arethuse, farewell! And rivers all, whose lovely streams from Thymbris downward swell!"

Begin the lay Bucolical, dear muses mine, begin! "And whether thou, O Pan, upon Lyceus' range should'st be, Or traversing great Mænalus, come thou to Sicily! And leave the tomb of Helice, the fun'ral pillar high, Of Lycaonides, though loved by dwellers in the sky." Leave off the lay Bucolical, go muses, leave the lay! "Come royal Pan, and take from me this pipe so sweet to play. (Its stops are of the closest wax, its mouth is wreathed well) For this unlucky love of mine is dragging me to hell."

Leave off the lay Bucolical, go muses, leave the lay!
"Let brambles, yes, let sharpest thorns bear violets to-day,
Let bushes of the juniper sprout with narcissus fine.
Let everything be interchanged, and pears grow on the pine;
Since Daphnis dieth. Now indeed let stags the staghounds
tear,
And mountain owls for singing with nightingales compare."
Leave off the lay Bucolical, go muses, leave the lay.
So much he said, and nothing more. His song for aye
was done.
Him Venus would have lifted but all his thread was spun;
And Daphnis to the river went. Away the eddy bore,
The man whom every muse did love, nor any nymph abhor.

up,

THE INCANTATION OF SIMETHA. FROM THE SECOND IDYLL OF THEOCRITUS. Literary World, July 1853.

HO, SLAVE! the laurel branches here. Where can the philtres be?

Black wool around the magic vase! Arrange it speedily; That I the love who loves me not may conquer by my

charms,

Since now for twelve whole days the wretch comes never to my arms.

He knows not if we live or die; he ne'er at break of day Knocks at our door; his fickle love has gone another way. Ah, to his dear gymnasium to-morrow will I go,

To see him, and to scold him, too, because he treats me so. But now my charms shall conquer him. Oh, lend thy brightest ray,

Propitious moon! for unto thee in secret will I pray, And to the infernal Hecaté, whom jackals shrink before, As o'er the funeral mounds she stalks, amid the clotted gore. Hail, Hecaté! thou fearful one, and speed us now if e'er, That our's with dire Medea's drugs, or Circe's may compare, And prove effective as the charms of Perimedé fair.

Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my lover home.

And first we burn the barley cakes - Haste, strew them, Thestylis.

Where are your wits, you wretched girl, at such a time as this? Am I become your laughing-stock? Now strew, and strewing say,

"Thus do I sprinkle Delphis's bones, thus let them waste away."

Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my lover home.

For Delphis hath tormented me; so I at Delphis now Enkindle this; and as it snaps, the blazing laurel bough, And not a cinder leaves to see, so sharp and swift the flame, So let the fire of fierce desire consume all Delphis's frame. Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my lover home.

Now as I melt, with aid divine, this cake of wax away, E'en thus be Delphis, Myndis's son, consumed with love to-day;

And even as this brazen wheel whirls round in rapid track, So let him to my door be whirled by Aphrodite back.

Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my lover home.

Now will I offer barley husks - Thou, Artemis, can'st well Move all things stubborn-even him, the Inflexible, of hell — The dogs are baying through the town, with sacred terror awed.

Ho, strike the cymbal, Thestylis! The goddess is abroad! Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my lover home.

Behold! the sea is silent all; the blasts are gone to rest, But never sleeps the pain of care within my troubled breast. For I am all on fire for him, who left me (woe's my life!) To be a vile deserted thing, and not a wedded wife.

Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my lover home.

Thrice pour I my libation out, and thrice these words I say,

"Or be she maid, or be she wife, whom Delphis loves, I pray He may forget her utterly, like Theseus, who of old, On Dia Ariadne left for all her locks of gold."

Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my lover home.

There grows a herb in Arcady that maddens every steed; The mares and colts go wild from it that on the mountains feed.

Thus raging my I Delphis see; like madman let him come, And from his loved gymnasium rush hither to my home. Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my lover home.

I take this bit of woollen fringe - from Delphis's cloak

it came

And thread by thread the fringe I shred above the hungry flame.

Ah me! ah me! consuming love, why suck my life-blood so?
Why cling to me like hungry leech that will not let me go?
Then turn and turn, my magic wheel, and bring my
lover home!

To-morrow I'll a lizard pound, a bitter cup to pour;
Now, take these unguents, Thestylis, and go anoint his door,
Above the threshold where I still am bound in soul and heart,
Though nothing he regardeth me, or eareth for my smart;
And spitting, whisper "E'en thus anoint I Delphis's bone."
Then turn my wheel, and bring my love, for now I sit alone.
Ah, how shall I my passion wail? With what begin my lay?
Who brought this evil on me? Anaxo came one day
(The daughter of Eubulus), who the sacred basket bore
Unto the grove of Artemis; around her and before
Were many savage animals, a lioness was one.

O, lady Moon, regard my love! Oh, hear how it begun!
Thucarila, my Thracian nurse (now dead and gone is she),
Was living near, and much besought and much entreated me
To see with her the spectacle, so I, foredoomed to woe,
Put on my fairest linen robe along with her to go,
And clasped me in the yellow gown that Clearista lent.
O, lady Moon, regard my love! hear whence the dart

was sent.

When we were half-way thither, by Lycon's house I spy Delphis and Endamippus together passing by.

Their locks were blond as amber, their limbs were shining bright,

So shining, that thy beams, fair Moon, cast not a lovelier light. For they were fresh from exercise, from pleasant toil they came,

O, lady Moon, regard my love! Oh, hear me whence the flame.